The question cemented her resolve.
Mr. Townsbridge might have persuaded her to let down her guard yesterday on account of his easy smiles and the prank he’d played in calling her bluff. But she knew better now, and as a result she was more determined than ever to resist him.
“I do wish Mr. Townsbridge hadn’t been called away on business,” Margaret’s mother said when the two went for a walk that afternoon. “We’re only here for a limited time and in light of what we hope to accomplish, every moment spent in his company would have been beneficial.”
“No amount of moments would prompt me to change my mind about him, Mama. I won’t be his wife.”
“I don’t know what your issue is, Margaret. He would make you an excellent match.”
“If I were the sort of woman who wanted to sit home and wait while her husband went off on his dalliances.” Margaret met her mother’s gaze. “Once a rake, always a rake. You’re the one who taught me that.”
“Quite right, although I’m not sure Mr. Townsbridge is the terrible scoundrel you wish to paint him.”
“Oh, I can assure you, he is far worse.”
Mama frowned. “Are you certain?”
“I overheard a conversation this morning between him and his father. Turns out there’s a local woman he’s gotten with child. That is his business today, Mama.”
They continued for a while in silence before Mama quietly said, “I would caution you against drawing conclusions based on something you’ve heard in passing.”
“Ordinarily, I would agree, but in this instance there can be no doubt. Mr. Townsbridge was very clear.”
“”Nevertheless, Margaret. Your father and I would not suggest you marry a man who would treat you ill. We want your happiness. The reason we’re here is because we believe you and Mr. Townsbridge would suit.” Mama dropped a glance in her direction. “Is it possible you might be wrong about him?”
Margaret shook her head, but the truth was, she wasn’t entirely sure. For although there were rumors about him being able to lure the saintliest woman into his bed with nary a wink, Margaret had no idea how much truth there was to that. Of course, the conversation she’d overheard earlier would suggest he was just as wicked as she’d imagined, but what if she’d drawn her conclusion based on her preconceived notions, or heard the comments out of context? If she were to be fair and open-minded, should she not give him a chance to explain?
“You and Papa don’t have the sort of marriage I want for myself,” Margaret said when they’d gone a bit further. “So why should I trust you to make a good match for me?”
When her mother didn’t respond right away, Margaret feared she’d overstepped and possibly hurt her, which was not her intention at all. She prepared to apologize for her bluntness, but then her mother said, “Because we want more for you than what we’ve had. Your father and I have managed to form a partnership based on respect, but there’s never been love or affection or even friendship between us. We live separate lives with separate interests, and we’re poorer for it, Margaret. There’s little we agree on these days, besides the fact that we want you to have a richer life than we’ve had.”
Margaret was grateful for this, and yet... “I’m not sure Mr. Townsbridge is the right answer, Mama.”
“So then?”
“Lord Shrewsberry has been forthright about his intentions, and while I did promise Papa I would wait until I’d given Mr. Townsbridge a chance, I believe Shrewsberry would make a fine husband. I think I’d like to encourage his courtship.”
“He’s certainly got a title, which is something Mr. Townsbridge will lack until he inherits.”
“What a horrible notion, Mama.”
“It is how it works, dear.”
Margaret couldn’t deny the truth in that, and yet she had to be clear about her own views on the issue. “You know I don’t care about rank. Of greater importance is Shrewsberry’s unblemished reputation and the fact that he listens to me. More than that, he shares my opinion on almost every subject. “
“Does he really?”
“I think we’re of a like mind.”
“Hmm... I’d be wary of anyone who agreed with all my views,” Mama murmured. “They’d either be trying to win my favor or incapable of having a thought of their own. Neither of which would be very commendable.”
Margaret supposed her mother had a point, but it wasn’t like that with Shrewsberry. With him, Margaret felt like she could express herself honestly and without fear of judgment. Although it was a bit strange that he’d not objected to her idea of allowing women to have seats in Parliament when even Margaret’s female friends thought this a bit too radical. And when it came to her insistence that she should be allowed to vote alongside men, Shrewsberry had merely smiled and nodded while saying, “Indeed.”
She knit her brow. Was it possible he’d just been placating her? Confused and unsure about what was real and what wasn’t, Margaret decided to start by addressing the Mr. Townsbridge situation. She’d put him on the spot and give him the chance he deserved to make his case.
IT WAS LATE BY THE time George returned to the house. Miss Granger had not been easy to console but eventually, after promising he would ensure her security - that she would receive the funds required, George had managed to calm her.
Now, in spite of his exhaustion, George hoped to spend some time with Miss Hollyoak.
“She’s in the library,” Thornsby, the butler, informed George when he inquired after her whereabouts.
“And the rest of the party?” George asked.
“The ladies have just retired. Your father and Mr. Hollyoak are still in the dining room.”
George thanked Thornsby and headed off in search of his quarry. When he found her five minutes later, a surge of affection rose inside him.
Asleep in a chair and with the biggest book the library had to offer resting in her lap, Miss Hollyoak looked small and vulnerable. A powerful urge to guard her - to keep her safe from all harm - assailed him. It was utterly unexpected and yet, it could not be denied.
A smile pulled at his lips as he approached her, his footfalls steady on the parquet. It was odd, this sense of rightness he felt when he was near her. They weren’t well acquainted, but in her company, he felt playful and exuberant - as if all the seriousness he was forced to face on a daily basis as heir could be set aside in favor of pure, unguarded amusement. It was a feeling he’d not enjoyed since he was a boy, this complete lack of pretense. Even when he met with his friends - men who’d known him most of his life - he kept his role of future viscount in place.
It was expected. He’d gotten accustomed to it. But he’d not realized until yesterday how exhausting it actually was or how much he missed just being himself.
Shifting his gaze from Miss Hollyoak for a moment, George considered the vase filled with ostrich plumes and peacock feathers his mother had collected. His smile widened and he immediately reached to snatch one up. Taking a step back, he extended his arm and allowed the tip of the feather to brush Miss Hollyoak’s cheek.
When her nose twitched, he repeated the movement. She shifted her position and made a small sound of annoyance. George chuckled, then ran the feather over her ear. She raised her hand in response and gave herself a good swipe before turning her face in the opposite direction. George merely ran the feather along the length of her neck.